Quills and Quibbles
by bitobeets
Summary: Cooped up in a keep, Anduin and Wrathion exchange pleasantries. Or rather, a lack thereof.


Anduin Wrynn was hurt.

Not as hurt as he'd been no, but enough so that each slow step he took sent a subdued pinch of pain down his spine as he made his way through the Lion's Landing keep. His crutch tapped out a rhythm as he limped across the stone courtyard. He'd had to stand through the formality of his arrival here, far too many bows and welcomes than he was physically comfortable with in the sweltering heat and humidity of the Krasarang Wilds. At the very least, he'd been promised a nice desk and a rest – provided he completed the 'miniscule, easily _completable__' _amount of paperwork his father had left him.

He had a funny feeling that the twitch in the Major's eye meant quite the opposite.

"Good afternoon, your majesty," a pair of voices rang in unison, followed by a metallic clink as gauntlets were snapped to attention.

The young prince of Stormwind smiled tiredly at two guards as he hobbled past, dismissing them with a wave of his hand as they lapsed back into their former stance. Anduin braced against the wooden door with his shoulder, giving his guards a sharp shake of his head when they moved to help. This, at least, he could do.

He pushed open the door with a muffled grunt, keeping it propped ajar with his crutch as he patiently waited for the guards to enter. With only the smallest hesitation at his effort, they followed and moved to their new positions at the corners of the small room. Hands moved to rest on their sword hilts, eyes probing the room.

Anduin limped past them, his own gaze focused despondently upon the mighty towers of paper that loomed from the desk placed in the middle of the room. As he drew closer, he could see form upon form decorated every inch of the workspace. A pit of dread settled in his stomach as he dropped down into the chair, eyes flicking to the window as the hot morning sun beamed back at him.

Forbidding himself of the sigh he so craved, he picked up the quill on the smallest pile and bent himself to his task.

A few hours passed in silence save for the scratchings of his quill, giving the prince a new respect for the patience of the two guards watching over the room. He hummed idly as he pushed a stack of papers across his desk, shuffling sheets from one side to the other. The distant sounds of battle began to drift through the open window above his head, further creasing his brow as he struggled to ignore the worrisome din to focus on the paper before him.

Stamps and seals marred the date scribbled atop the latest parchment, but judging by the rest of the forms around him, it too was late. He leaned down to squint at the blurred writings, trying to rub away the wax residue with his thumb.

"Having a little trouble?" a raspy voice chuckled from above.

Anduin tilted his head upwards as a flash of black darted across his view. A light gust of wind buffeted his chin as he lowered his gaze back to his desk. A small, black whelp was seated primly in the center of his work, glowing red eyes staring back at him as a rather nasty grin curled the beast's lip.

His guards instantly moved towards him with swords drawn, but Anduin held up a hand to halt them. He studied the beast carefully, pursing his lips. Finally, he waved the guards away. With a reluctant motion, they sheathed their weapons and returned to the door.

"Wrathion?" Anduin furrowed his brow, staring the whelp down. "Is that you?"

"No, I'm the other black dragon in Pandaria," the creature answered snidely. "Or rather, one of several. There's ever so many of us, don't you know?"

"Good evening, Black Prince," Anduin stated cordially, reflexively adopting his diplomatic tone in the face of sarcasm. He returned his gaze to his papers, scratching away at the remaining wax. "To what do I owe the _pleasure_? Also," he added, "If you could, please don't revert on my desk. I only just got it organized."

Wrathion sniffed indignantly, a puff of smoke trailing from his nostrils. "You weren't in your room."

"I'm quite certain I left a detailed note on my bedside explaining that I would be away for the day," Anduin replied airly, refusing to look up.

"I saw no such note," Wrathion snapped. "Besides, you or your father are supposed to inform me in _person_ if you are leaving the inn."

Anduin resisted his un-princely urge to roll his eyes, lifting the paper off his desk to examine it in the light. "You were not there when the messenger came to request my presence here. Am I supposed to delay my journeys indefinitely until you return? I am your temporary ward, not your prisoner."

"I would appreciate it, yes. I am charged with keeping an eye on a fellow prince, I would very much like it if you didn't go gallivanting off with messengers that may or may not be assassins in disguise." Wrathion stretched his wings irritably, obviously displeased about being kept in whelp form.

"Do you really think me naïve enough to run off with strangers?" Anduin laughed, raising a brow.

Wrathion smirked and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "You have a penchant for being, ah, kidnapped, as I recall."

Anduin's smile soured as the whelp smirked back at him. "That's different," he snapped, abruptly clearing his throat. "I will not shoulder the blame for all of those," he said in a more neutral tone.

"Yes, I'm sure you won't," Wrathion said casually, giving his shoulders an exaggerated shrug. "Either way – what _are_ you doing here? Scribbling?" He flicked a stray sheet with his tail in disdain. "I don't see why a bit of artwork requires you to be rushed off to a war zone."

"It is far easier to move one man than hundreds of confidential documents," Anduin replied as he scratched his signature onto a parchment and pushed it to the side. Hundreds… it felt more like thousands to him.

""And you need to be around all these documents because…?" Wrathion prompted. "Oh, and you're far from a _man_."

"Royal signature." Anduin twirled the quill idly in his fingers as he ignored that last part. "Father is pre-occupied at the moment, so he's requested my help dealing with a bit of a… backlog."

"Come now," the whelp complained, claws clicking across the table as he paced impatiently. "Surely a bit of paperwork can wait. Why do lesser races tie themselves down with all that nonsense? Even the masterpieces of the titans are sealed away by arduous protocols and…" Wrathion snorted irritably. "Buttons."

"Because not all commands are given by one leader," Anduin remarked absently, chewing on the tip of his quill. "There are requests and changes and reports from the front that need to be attended to. Hundreds of lives can be changed by a form." The boy waved a spare sheet at Wrathion as one would tempt a cat. The dragon let out a small plume of flame in rebuttal as Anduin snatched the paper back to smooth the singed corners.

"Yes, alright," Wrathion snapped, rolling his eyes as he climbed atop a book and settled down. "You're inefficient and proud of it, well done."

"You're the one interrupting my work," Anduin retorted with a smile, lofting an eyebrow as he scrawled his name across the parchment and placed it to the side. His eyes scanned the remaining documents briefly before he turned to Wrathion with an exasperated sigh, propping an arm on the table to stare the whelp down. "Are you not pre-occupied with your grand plans in the Vale, your _gifts_ to our heroes?" He prodded the dragon's side with the tip of his quill. "Why must you pester me, O Prince?"

"Plans are in motion," Wrathion said smoothly, casually swiping at the retreating quill. "But we have reached a resting point for the time being. Are you still so displeased by my company?"

"Perhaps not, if you were not imposing. And you are, considering you've both interrupted my work and…" The human prince trailed off, eyes drifting across the suddenly absent room as the faintest trace of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Dare I ask what has happened to my guards?"

"Momentarily indisposed." The whelp sat up and gave a fake, lazy yawn. "The Black Hand are almost as adept as stealth as I am."

"Oh yes, I'm certain a black dragon with glowing red eyes blends in quite well," Anduin said with a sly smile. "Those rogues of yours have a thing or two to learn about subtlety."

Wrathion snorted, arching his back. A puff of blame smoke rolled off his form as limbs stretched and lengthened until a gloved hand darted out to cup the young prince's face. Stray papers scattered to the ground, drawing a punch of irritation from Anduin.

"I can be as subtle as I desire, human," the man purred, gently running a clawed finger behind the other's ear. Glowing eyes flickered momentarily as the dragon slid off the desk, slowly circling the human.

"You-" Anduin began, only to have his sentence turn into a startled noise as Wrathion gripped his neck and pinned him to the desk in one swift movement. Another hand clasped his wrist as he was flipped onto his back, golden bangs falling to slightly obscure the two smoldering eyes that suddenly consumed his gaze.

"But," Wrathion added, leaning forward to murmur in the other's ear. "I may also be as forward as I please." His tongue flicked out, tracing a lazy line down the curve of the human prince's ear.

Anduin inhaled sharply at the touch and winced as his back gave a painful ache, unable to move under the raw, deceptive strength of the man holding him in place. A guilty tingle raced down his spine as the moist breath of his captor caressed his inner ear, but he suppressed the shiver threatening to overtake him. "Really? I was expecting you to call this subtle. Are you quite done now?" he quipped bravely, his breath suddenly hitching as the black prince nipped at his earlobe.

"Cease your prattle," Wrathion growled, pulling himself atop Anduin as he straddled the other's hips to pin the boy with his weight. Nimble hands ghosted across his chest, travelling up his arms as they too were pressed to the table. Anduin tried to force his breath steady and make sense of the situation as an unfamiliar lurch pressed against his temple, as if he were suddenly dizzy. A sharp pain suddenly jolted him as claws sunk into his wrists, forcing a cry of pain from the human prince's lips that was quickly muffled as the other captured his mouth with a pleased rumble.

The taste of ash and spice flooded Anduin's senses as scorching hot breath mingled with his own in each possessive kiss Wrathion claimed. The desire to dominate, to _take_ all but radiated from the dragon's body as Anduin felt hips press harshly against his. His vision began to swim as his body trembled from the swarm of confusion and sensation threatening to overtake him.

And then it was over. Wrathion had nimbly rolled off him without a word of warning and now stood beside the desk, straightening his turban with a smirk that oozed of self-satisfaction.

Anduin briefly pondered murder before he sat up and rubbed at his mouth, a hand reaching up to unconsciously graze the mark left upon his ear. "I suppose you think that's funny," he snapped, pulling his fingers away and frowning at the small specks of blood upon his gloves.

"Mm... 'Funny' isn't the word I'd use," Wrathion remarked airily, smoothing the creases on his gloves. "Entertaining, perhaps? I wouldn't rule out enjoyable or sloppy - on your part anyway." Pointed teeth glinted in the light as the dragon shot him a grin.

"How charming," Anduin muttered, wiping his hands on the table. "Do you intend to court all your consorts this way, dragon?"

Wrathion's smile widened. "Do you consider yourself my _consort_, Prince?" he drawled.

Anduin froze, shoulders stiffening. "That's not -"

"I'm afraid," Wrathion announced loudly, drowning out the other's protests, "That the time has come to take my leave, your majesty." He swept the turban off his head and dipped into a mocking bow. "So we will have to finish our conversation another time, O consort of mine." He straightened up, running a claw over his messy curls before replacing his hat with a satisfied nod. In a puff of dark smoke his form dissolved, a whelp hovering where a man had once stood.

"Don't call me that!" Anduin demanded indignantly. Wrathion pointedly ignored him, wings flapping steadily as the dragon propelled himself upwards towards the window. He landed briefly on the sill, grinning cheekily down at Anduin with the hunch of a cat stalking its prey. "I look forward to your return," he rasped with a jaunty flick of his tail.

"Go away!" Anduin shouted back, stooping to pick up his fallen chair. He heard the faintest hiss of laughter from above, but when he turned to glower, Wrathion was gone. Anduin heaved a sigh as he righted his chair only to slump in it moments later. He kneaded his forehead slowly, try to process the events in his head but finding only muddled thoughts instead.

He threw a tired glance towards the door as the guards' absence resurfaced in his mind. As if on cue, two darkly clad rogues dissolved out of air. An orc woman and a blood elf male gently placed the_ hopefully _unconscious bodies of his guards side by side on the floor. The orc vanished and the door slid open and shut but the elf paused, lifting his head to meet Anduin's gaze. He gave the young prince a saucy wink before he too abruptly disappeared.

Anduin dropped his head into his hands and groaned.


End file.
